Saturday, December 3, 2016

8930. HAPPY

I was happy as a lark, and forever,
as it seemed. The tunnels and the
bridges were always open for me.
Free passage to sun and stars.
Then there was you, and then there
were hundreds. The football field
at the local boy's school, run by
priests and brothers, hog-tied
and filled with men. They'd hire
the police on weekends, just
to help with the parking; but
still I was happy. And you.
Out back, where the far-off woods
settled; the pond with its frogs and
its gophers. The flat-meadow field,
and those Canadian geese. Jean, Jean,
you're young and alive; come out
of your half-dreamed dream.
And me.

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